


Something, Something, Nothing

by ectoviolet



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, M/M, all tagged characters and ships to appear, major warning for attempted suicide, some may be added in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoviolet/pseuds/ectoviolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy attempts to end his life. He wakes in a hospital room, left to weather the aftermath. The road to recovery, as always, is a long and rocky one, but his journey can be made easier with the help of those who love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something, Something, Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Posted also to my deviantart. Comments and criticisms highly appreciated!

   

   My fingers shake as I punch the numbers into my phone. As it rings, solid dread sinks over me. I shiver, even in the clammy heat of my apartment.

   "Hello?"  

   “Kal. Hey.” The little orange bottle in my hand feels as though it weighs a ton. I need to do this.

   “Roy, how are you doing?”

   “I, uh...” My throat feels tight. My voice comes out strained. “Kaldur. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

   “Is something wrong?” The concern in his voice burns in my chest.

    I clench my hand around my cell phone. “What would you do if... If a friend of yours... Someone close to you... Died?” My stomach turns. Sweat runs down my neck. I close my eyes.

   “Has something happened?”

   My entire body tightens. I clench my jaw to keep from audibly crying. “I asked you a question.”

   I can hear him breathing for a few moments. “I asked you a question first. Roy, please tell me what plagues you.”

   “What would you do... If I died?”

   The hitch in his breath gets to me. I jump. The pills rattle. I pray he can't hear them. “If you died...” Kaldur's voice is slow, deep, calm. “I would mourn you for my entire life.”

   I curl inward, drawing my knees to my chest, trying to keep myself silent. My body shudders hard. I drop the pills into my lap. “Don't.”

   “You are... my best friend. Please do not do anything that could end in regret.” He sounds urgent. “I implore you not to break my heart again.”

   I finally choke on a sob, one that wracks painfully through my body. “Fuck. Don't do this to me.”

   “ _You_ don't do this to _me,_ Roy!” Anger rises through the speaker pressed to my ear. “You think the only life ending will be your own?”

   My heart drops to my stomach and I choke again, crying into the phone like a fucking baby. “Don't, Kal, don't. Don't do this to me. Fuck, man, I...” I grit my teeth. “I'm not worth missing.” I flick my phone shut before he can argue with me. It vibrates in my hand. The caller ID reads 'KAL'. I put it on the table. I can still feel it buzzing, or maybe I'm shaking. I push down on the white cap of the bottle and twist. A few little white tablets spill into my hand. Maybe, if I take them slowly, one by one, it really will just be like falling asleep. It won't hurt.

   One. I breathe deeply. My phone continues buzzing on the table, next to an empty whiskey bottle. Two. My head is hurting from all the stress. I'm probably dehydrated, too. I haven't had food or water or anything but scotch since probably yesterday. Does it matter? I'll be sleeping. Three. The phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes. Four. Once I'm gone, they'll look even harder for him. Five. Oliver will have someone to be proud of. Six. I hope someone will love Kaldur better than I do. Someone who deserves him. Not me, not me. Seven. The phone just won't stop buzzing. Make it stop, make it stop, _make it stop._  Kal. Eight. I won't hurt anyone anymore. I'm crying. It hurts. Everything hurts, but I'm starting to feel numb. Nine. Everything is black around the edges. I can't. I can't fall asleep yet. _No._  Ten. I haven't had enough. How many is enough? I pour out the bottle into my trembling hand. Ten? They don't go down right, bitter and chalky in my dry mouth. I choke. Ten. I swallow hard. They go down. Ten. I can't open my eyes. Ten. The buzzing won't go away. Everything is black. Ten. What am I counting. Ten. The buzzing is gone. Everything is gone.  
...

   The buzzing is back when I open my eyes. Everything is white. There are tubes in my arm. God, my stomach hurts. My head hurts. God, why does everything hurt? I'm in a hospital. Why am I here?

   Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I fucked up. I should have downed them all at once. I try to sit up. I'm held back, as if by some invisible hands. I down at myself and see that I am strapped to the bed. A frustrated yell rises in my throat. “Fuck!” I scream, straining against my bonds. I can't get up. I shouldn't be here. I close my eyes and struggle to break the straps.

   I open my eyes. There's someone here now. A tall, tanned guy. He grabs my arm and I realize too late what he's doing.

   “Don't!” My voice is screechy and barely recognizable. No, no, no.

    Shushing me, he holds my arm firmly. He's strong. Stronger than me, right now. He pushes the needle into my IV and I feel the drugs swimming into my veins. For a few seconds, I swear I see a stitched mask, dark eyes full of nightmares.

   “Oliver!” I scream, praying that somehow, he'll come and save me. Like he used to.  
The guy fades away. The buzzing fades away. I fade away.  
   When I wake up again, the tubes are gone. The straps are not. Maybe I am dead. Maybe this is Hell. Maybe Hell is a blank white room where you're strapped to the bed until staring at the ceiling drives you insane. I stare at the ceiling. I tried to kill myself. I nearly did. I almost did it. If I was not here, I'd be dead. How did I get here? The room buzzes. Kaldur. I stare at the ceiling. I stare at the ceiling. I stare at the ceiling. The door swings open.

  “Roy Harper?”

   I glance towards the voice. It's a woman.

   “I'm glad to see you awake,” she says with a smile. Then, she frowns. “Are you aware of why you're here, Roy?”

   I stare at her.

   “Do you remember what happened?”

   I stare at her.

   “You swallowed a month's worth of Ambien, somewhere near 100 mg. Moreover, your blood alcohol levels were something near 0.2”

   I stare at her.

   “At the end of the day, we're moving you to the psych ward. Do you know why that is, Roy?”

   I stare at her.

   She sits down in the plastic chair next to my bed. “You don't have to talk. Many patients don't, especially after an experience like yours. You may feel very depressed. You may feel very angry. Quite likely, you feel both. We're here to help with that.”

   “Are visitations allowed in the psych ward?”

   “Of course. Is there anyone you'd like to see?”

   “No.”  
...

   “And who is Oliver, Roy?”

   “Oliver Queen. Family friend. Sort of like an uncle to me...” I make finger-quotes. “'Father figure'.”

   “And why did you call for him?”

   I stare at her. “Why do you think I called for him?”

   “This isn't about what I think.”

   “When I was young... And... stupid...” How young? How young was I? A month old? Two? “When I got into trouble... He was always there.”

   “This seems like it's hard for you to talk about,” she says. “Has he not been there recently?”

   I close my eyes. Clench my jaw. “I... Stopped needing him. I stopped wanting him.”

   “But you need and want him now?”

   “He doesn't need... Me... In his life...” I brace my hands on my knees.

   “And what makes you think that?” She leans in, interested.

   Because I'm a copy. Because I'm a fraud. Because I was built to destroy. “Because all I do is hurt people.”

   “Do you really believe that, Roy?”

   I stand so fast that my chair gets knocked to the floor. I grunt in frustration. “All I do. All I have ever done. What I was created for. Is hurting people.”

   “Well. I want you to know that I do not believe that. I believe you are a caring, compassionate, and selfless young man. Today's time is up. You can go to the recreation room, or back to your room now.”  
...

   “It's good to see you,” he says, flashing a strained smile. “It's been a while.”

    I stare at the door behind him. I feel a tightness in my chest that's all too familiar.

   “Roy, I want you to know... It doesn't matter to me. You're just as much yourself as you've always been.”

   I slam my hands on the table.

   He jumps.

   I stand up and turn around, facing the blank white wall.

   “You're just as real as he was.” His voice is quiet. He's trying not to let the doctors hear.

   My eyes sting. My throat burns. My hands find the sides of my head, tangling through my hair, clenching, pulling. A scream tears through my chest, out from my mouth, a primal  roar. I sink to my knees.

   “Roy!” his voice sounds muffled.

   There are arms around me, and I don't struggle. I don't fight it. I go limp. I go quiet. I get led out of the room. I shove my fist in my mouth to muffle the sob that comes up. I look up in time to see Oliver being shown the way out. He glances in my direction, and finally I think he's seeing me as I truly am: weak, pathetic, broken.  
...

   I lean on the wall by the phone. The plastic of the receiver feels smooth and cold, almost comforting, if I could stop thinking about all the other faces that have touched it.

   “We're giving you an option, Roy. You can choose to accept or decline. It's an option, that's all it is.”

   I close my eyes. An option. A choice. It feels so long since I've had one. “I don't know. I... I don't know.”

   There's a brief silence on the other end. “I know it's not my place to speak, but... There are people who are anxious to see you.”

   That's _rich._  I can't help but to laugh, a little bit. It sounds especially bitter.

   “I'm being sincere. Don't forget that you have friends.”

   I tense up. “I want to go,” I spit out the words before I can really mull over them. “I want to get out.”

   “Then we'll arrange your transfer.” He sounds too satisfied. I wonder exactly how much of a choice I really had.

   “Thank you, Bruce,” I say quietly.

   “I'll see you in a few days.” There's a click as he hangs up.

   A choice. A way out. I take a deep breath as I clunk the receiver back onto the wall. This is good. No more white walls. No more suicide watch. But even as I try to convince myself, my heart pounds in my chest. Sweat starts to prick up at the nape of my neck. Friends. My friends. Kaldur. I wonder if I can face him. I wonder if I can face anyone.


End file.
